I couldn't throw anything away until she died. I would go up there and get sick from all the dust and clutter, and the folks couldn't understand why.

I tried to clean out a bedroom that was 10 feet x 20 feet, and 5 feet deep in cardboard and junk. I climbed over the stuff and opened a window and tossed it out the window. That's one thousand cubic feet of crud in ONE room. Then she woke up and came outside and started cursing at me, called me a nasty bitch, and told me "You'll never be half the woman your grandmother was".

She had no memory of it later. I figured out a couple of months later that she had dissociated and went into another personality. THat is scary.

She dragged 14 big trash sacks back from the curb and dragged them under the carport, that we had thrown out. This was a week after she had had one of her carotid arteries cleaned out in the hospital.

I've sent stuff to auction houses and taken countless boxes of stuff to resale shops. And I'm still not through.

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